


You're Everywhere in My Dreams

by allyarra



Category: Stitchers (TV)
Genre: F/M, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 20:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4718747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyarra/pseuds/allyarra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the season finale Cameron hasn't woken up yet. He's not even sure he can wake up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Everywhere in My Dreams

He’s not sure where the dream begins. It could be in those few, hazy, precious moments his head was nestled into her neck, her hair like silk on his skin. The smell of her floats through his dream, haunting him.

She’s everywhere.

It’s not all that different when he’s awake, to be fair. She haunts his thoughts as effectively as she does his dreams. It’s aggravating and annoying and frustrating and he never wants it to stop.

“I didn’t know.”

Her voice echos in the dream and he wants to respond. ‘Of course you didn’t, Stretch. I can keep a secret better than you can.’

But she’s gone, somewhere far out of his reach. Not that she was ever really in his reach. Not that it matters at all.

Except it really, really does. He needs to tell her, needs to communicate with her. It’s all he’s got and he’s not going to lose it. He doesn’t fuss over her so much just to lose her like this. It’s stupid and Cameron only does stupid when it’s Kirsten dragging him off with some half baked plan.

His plans are fully thought through. Half baked is not something he approves of in his kitchen or his lab.

 

 

He remembers the needle going in his arm and the look of horror on her face and how it had set his heart thumping with painful hope even as it stopped all together. Everything that matters to him in that moment is surrounding him and he doesn’t care that he broke his own rule about planning because he needs to keep her safe. He needs to protect her and this is all he can do.

 

 

She’s in his head, but not literally. She’s not stitched in, he knows that. Because he can feel her, can feel her hand in his and occasionally her head resting on his chest.

‘It’s not going to stop, worry wart,’ he tells her.

She doesn’t say anything. She never responds. He’s starting to think it’s because he’s not actually saying anything.

“Cameron, you need to wake up now.”

When she uses time expressions he always wonders if she’s doing it to make everyone comfortable or because it’s such a part of language that she can’t escape it. He wonders if she would like speaking Chinese more because there are no tenses, no sense of time.

He thinks that it would fit her.

 

 

Sometimes he can hear other people speaking, voices he doesn’t recognize mingled with those that are so intimately familiar. Once, there is his mother. She argues with the doctors, demanding all the information, flipping through his chart herself when they don’t give it to her fast enough.

She’s in research mode, already working on a hypothesis.

As a child he loved to watch her like this. He would sit quietly in her office, quietly because if he sat still and silent long enough she forgot he was there, and just watch her work. It was like magic. She’d look through books and write and put her head in her hands and then suddenly she would be animated, her movements frantic.

He used to think that she could solve any problem in the world like that. He knows, intimately, that she can’t.

But he can’t help the trickle of hope that flows through him to know that she is there, at his side. She’s not a miracle worker but she is his mother. The little boy who ran to her for kisses on his scrapes can’t help but be grateful for her presence.

He wishes that she didn’t say goodbye before going. That little bit of belief that everything was going to be okay was draining away with her leaving.

“You’re a good boy, Cameron. You’ve always been a good boy.” There are emotions in her voice he hasn’t heard since he was ten years old. The last time she said goodbye to him. “I wanted to give you the world and instead the world took you from me.”

There are tears in her voice and he wishes he could comfort her. Cameron is a comforter, he hates when others are in pain.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” she whispers and he can feel her tears dripping onto his face as her lips press to his forehead. “I’m so sorry I can’t be here. I can’t just sit and watch you waste away. I can’t be the mother you deserve, that you’ve always deserved. Goodbye, my darling baby boy.”

Then she’s gone and the void yawns just that little bit more.

 

 

There’s no sense of time in this dream. He’s not even sure that it’s a dream but he knows it’s not real in the way it is when he’s awake. He doesn’t have the words for this, he of the never ending talking. It’s something he’s glad no one else is aware of.

Sometimes he wonders if this is how Kirsten feels all the time. As if everything is a dream where everything happens all at once and yet nothing ever happens.

Always and never and even sometimes are foreign concepts. He doesn’t know how long he’s been like this, how long since he was so incredibly stupid as to actually kill himself.

He thinks about how he will beg Kirsten’s forgiveness, of all the bro nights he will spend with Linus to make up for scaring him, of how he will teach Camille everything she wants to know.

“I will never forgive you if you don’t wake up,” Kirsten tells him and he wonders again if she understands what she’s saying. She has no concept of time, how can she say something will never happen?

And yet he thinks that she understands always and never better than anyone else. Because they’re her constants. She is the extreme, always and forever.

He wants her forgiveness, wants her in a way that he still doesn’t understand. All he understands is that she’s everywhere.

 

 

“You are the dumbest genius I have ever had the dubious pleasure of meeting,” Camille tells him, once. “Like, even more than Kirsten and she is definitely queen of the estupidos.”

He grins at that and he thinks that there must be some movement in his face because Camille gasps. “Cameron? Cameron?” she asks, voice desperate. “Come on, you idiot boy, you have to wake up!”

He tries, he really does. It’s just too much for him, he’s too tired. He hears Camille start to cry and that’s when he begins to feel less like the biggest idiot in the world and more like the biggest jerk.

 

 

“We didn’t even get the plate numbers,” Linus tells him. “You’re stuck in this stupid coma that’s even worse than Marta’s because you fucking did this to yourself and absolutely nothing came of it.

Yeah, he’s definitely an ass.

“They can’t wait for you forever, you know. Pretty soon they’re going to send Kirsten in again and Camille will be the one piloting her. You made yourself replaceable.”

He thinks that the steady beeping of his heart monitor should be erratic, fast and wild, because the thought of Kirsten stitching without him makes him crazy with fear. His plan is sounding much less than half baked now that he’s dealing with the fall out.

“I know I was jealous that you were teaching Camille but damn, all I want now is you there. I can’t stand someone there because I want to be there but because I can’t look at someone else in your place. You shouldn’t be replaceable.”

The darkness is pulling at him, dragging him back down into the dreams but this time he fights it. He doesn’t want to go. This is where he belongs, in the real world. The dreams aren’t meant to be his everything.

 

 

“It’s been a month, today.”

That shocks him. Time has always held meaning for him and now that he lives in this dream he has no concept of a month. It could have been so much longer or shorter and he’d never have known.

“I think you probably know as much about time right now as I do but I though you would want to know. A month is a long time without someone.”

He thinks that’s as close as she’ll ever come to saying she misses him, as close as she’s capable of right now at least. The black of the dream takes longer to pull him away from her this time.

 

 

It’s Maggie that shocks him the most. “You can’t protect her if you don’t wake up and I don’t think anyone else can fill your shoes. She won’t let them.”

She doesn’t say anything else and she really doesn’t need to. Ever since he met her his whole life has somehow revolved around Kirsten, around protecting her. Even when the only interaction he’d ever had with her was a meeting as children she’d influenced him.

She had been the reason he’d begun to study neuroscience. She was everywhere. Past, present, and he was determined to make her his future too.

 

 

“Somebody hit the lights,” he groans, trying to throw an arm over his eyes to block out the light. “It’s too bright.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this today on my lunch break between classes because this show has just caught me and I really, really needed to write something for it. And it turns out that it was this. So here we are, my first Stitchers fic (and the first fic I've written in about a year!).


End file.
